


Go freaking nuts

by Hectatess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, SPN Holiday Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 14:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16812745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hectatess/pseuds/Hectatess
Summary: Dean is trying. He is. But when John and Sam fight once again, and his job at the university’s cafeteria is put on hold until after Christmas, he gives up. He wanders until he sinks down on a bench. How can his life suck this bad? He hadn’t even had coffee yet.With his head in his hands he tries to think how to get through the holidays, when a voice interrupts his thoughts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was hoping to write a fic one could read through the year, but still had a little holidays in it.  
> I actually own a stencil like Cas uses, and that’s what triggered my Muse.  
> I hope you enjoy my contribution to the #SPN Holiday Mixtape.
> 
> Thanks to my amazing Beta Tanja (Nera_Solani) for helping me perfect this.  
> And thanks to Icarus3 for helping me, the total HTML Noob, with my art insertion!  
> Extra love to all my Discord peeps! You’re all amazeballs!

Today was another fucked up day in Dean Winchester’s books.

It had started with a nuclear-war level fight between his dad and his little brother.  
“It’s time you pulled your nose outta them damned books, Sam, and started doing some real guy’s stuff!” John had yelled at Sam over his breakfast of pancakes.  
“Fuck you, dad! All you do is get commode-hanging drunk, and boast to your equally boozed up buddies how good your life is!” Sam had returned fire. “Guess what. Without Dean caring for you, your life wouldn’t be so great!”  
And that had John pay attention to Dean, who had stood there, frozen in place.  
“Ya think so? Huh, boy? Ya think so? Dean!” John had barked, making Dean cringe just a bit.  
“From now on, you don’t care for Sam anymore. No food for him, no taking him places, no nothing! See how he fares.”  
Sam had glared at John, totally unimpressed.  
“Fine, dad. But none for you either then. Or you’ll be a bigger pansy than me,” he’d stated with venom, before pushing his chair back and leaving.  
“Dean. I’m sorry. I will walk today. Thanks for breakfast.”  
John had glared at his retreating back, shovelled the rest of his breakfast down and left, not a word to Dean.

Then Garth called him, just as he was de-icing his Baby.  
“Dean, I’m sorry buddy. The uni has decided to close all facilities until after Christmas break.”  
So that meant no going to the cafeteria to work, no income, and no place to be where John wasn’t.  
To clear his mind Dean had wandered the streets, ending up on a bench facing an empty storefront, plastered shut with newspapers.  
Dean vaguely remembered it being some kind of fancy diner or something.  
He hadn’t even had any coffee yet.  
With a deep sigh he put his head in his hands.  
Why was this his life?

“Hello.”  
Dean couldn’t even muster the strength to lift his head and see who the owner of the voice like whiskey over gravel was.  
“Are you ok?” the voice continued, a hint of concern colouring it.  
“Uh. ‘M fine. Thanks,” Dean managed, not really feeling it.  
“Is there any conceivable way I can help you?” the voice pressed.  
Geez. For a voice, it was damned persistent.  
“Unless you can magically get me caffeine, don’t bother,” Dean grumbled, really feeling the world had gone mad around him.  
“Would you mind if I try?” the voice carefully asked.  
Giving up on the world in general, Dean grabbed his head with both hands, not opening his eyes.  
“Fine. Go freakin’ nuts!” he snarled.  
A deep chuckle preceded disappearing footsteps.

_Finally_ , his mind sighed. He sat up straight, still not opening his eyes.  
A soft pounding in his brain made itself known.  
Perfect. That was all he needed! A freaking headache...  
Glad the voice had left, Dean sat back on the bench, letting his head sink back until it couldn’t go any further.  
The pounding morphed into stabbing needles and he really needed coffee.  
He needed it so bad, he could smell it.

“Here. I didn’t add anything. I had a feeling you would need a kick.”  
Super, the voice was back.  
Dean just moaned low.  
Something hot nudged his hand, and he snatched it back.  
“Careful!” the voice cautioned. “It could burn you.”  
Dean grumbled under his breath and rubbed his hand, still not opening his eyes.  
“Thanks for the warning, Sherlock,” he snarked.  
The voice sighed, then tisked.  
“Tsk. I will leave you be. You seem out of sorts. I am sorry. I will leave it on the bench. Good day.”  
Again he heard footsteps dwindle off.

Dean sat like a statue for a while, scared the voice might come back, but it didn’t.  
He carefully cracked open one eye, but he all he saw was the empty street.  
On the seat of his bench stood a take-away cup, steam curling from the opening in its lid.  
He opened both his eyes in surprise, wincing as the light made the needles stab hard.  
The cup still stood there.  
He picked it up. It was piping hot and the heavenly aroma of pure, unadulterated caffeine caressed his olfactory sense.  
A tentative sip had him moan out in Coffeegasm.  
It was strong, aromatic and just perfect.

The coffee had slightly brightened his day, so when his phone chimed out the chorus to Kodaline’s ‘brother’, he picked it up with an almost cheery “Heya Sammy!”  
“It’s Sam. I’m not a chubby 12 year old anymore,” Sam grumbled.  
Dean just chuckled, waiting for Sam to continue.  
“Dean... I’m sorry for this morning. I just....”  
Sighing, Dean interrupted. “Sam. Don’t. We both know dad is an ass. Don’t worry. I’m still picking you up today, and I’m still making dinner. Screw him. He’s probably on a Miller-time shift as we speak.”  
He took another sip op that amazing coffee, and sighed happily.  
“Are you on a break already?” Sam wondered.  
Fuck. That observant wise-ass. Damnit all. He’d have found out anyway.  
“No. Uni closed the cafeteria for Christmas,” Dean admitted in a soft voice.  
Silence.  
“Sam?”  
More silence, then: “Crap, Dean. Are we gonna be ok?”

Of course. Smartypants Sam knew they kind of relied on Dean bringing home the bacon.  
“Yeah, bud. We’re gonna be fine,” Dean lied through his teeth.  
The marvellous aftertaste of the coffee turned sour in his mouth.  
“Are you sure Dean? I could get a job or something...” Sam offered.  
“Don’t!” Dean begged. “Sam... you should concentrate on studying. I got something lined up. We’ll be fine,” he lied.  
Sam took it at face value and hung up.  
With a sigh, less happy this time, Dean brought the coffee cup to his mouth again, savouring the smell.  
“Fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Dean!”  
At the bark, Dean closed his eyes resignedly and sighed.  
“Yes dad.”  
John wasn’t drunk, but the hangover didn’t make him easier to handle.  
“Where’s your brother?” he demanded angrily.  
Those needles from yesterday woke up early and started prodding.  
Dean rubbed his brow.  
“Already left for school, dad. You said I wasn’t allowed to drive him, remember?”  
John huffed and sat down.  
“Right. Huh. At least you know to obey your father...” he gruffly stated.  
Dean said nothing and poured John the last coffee.  
“Here, dad, and take some Aspirin,” he said with a monotonous voice.  
John actually smiled at him, suddenly looking ten years younger and more like the dad Dean remembered having when he was four.  
“Thanks, bud. What Sam doesn’t know, huh?” John said, downing the pills with a gigantic gulp of coffee.  
Dean turned to do the dishes and ignored the comment.  
“What are you going to do today, dad?” he lightly asked, but his gut churned. If John was staying in, he had to go out. No way he was going to stay and nurse his father through something he could have avoided. He’d done that enough times.  
“Hm,” John grunted, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. “Nothin’ much. Maybe watch the game a bit.”  
Damn.  
“Ok. I gotta go. Shift starts in a bit,” Dean lied. “And since it’s threatening to snow, I’m walking. Baby will be safer on the drive.”  
John just grunted, and Dean knew he was already thinking about his next beer.  
Not wishing to stay a moment longer with his dad, Dean shucked on his coat, stuffed his phone in his pocket and left.  
John didn’t even notice.

Wandering the streets, Dean kept a weather eye out for anything that could mean a job for him.  
Nothing stood out, and he found himself on the same bench as yesterday.  
His phone buzzed, having been muted because of his head.  
He picked it up without checking.  
“H‘llo..” he mumbled.  
The incoherent slurring told him John had found the bottle of JD Dean had meant to dump at Bobby’s today. Freakin headache... he’d forgotten all about it.  
“Dad... dad. Are you even noticing that you’re calling me?” he sighed, rubbing his brow again.  
“D’n... wh’re you boy?” John slurred. “Need... need a dr’nk.”  
Putting his head in his hand, Dean closed his eyes.  
“No, you don’t, dad. Leave the bottle. Please,” he begged.  
“N’h. You... y’get me s’me J’hnny, y’hear? I dun.. I dun like Jack.”  
Dean’s stomach grumbled. He hadn’t even had breakfast yet.  
“No.. dad. I’m not going to enable you. Besides...” he tried, hoping to appeal to some vestige of fatherly sense of responsibility. “...I need the money to buy me a sandwich. I didn’t eat breakfast.”  
John mumbled something, then the call dropped.  
Staring at his phone Dean fought the urge to just walk off and never look back.

When his eyes started stinging, Dean closed them and leaned back again, ignoring the hollow feeling in his belly.  
“Hello.”  
Dean sighed.  
“Is that you again?” he asked, not having the energy to move.  
A soft chuckle came from his right side.  
“Yes. It seemed you might be in need of some more caffeine. I couldn’t help but overhear the last bit of that call. I am sorry. But you should eat breakfast. You need the fuel for your day,” the voice reasoned.  
Dean scoffed.  
“Silly voice. With all that’s going on in my life, most mornings my gut is too tight to eat.”  
There was a quiet sigh.   
“I see. I am sorry your life is like that. I hope you feel well enough for this,” the voice said, nudging something warm against Dean’s thigh.  
“I have to go. Lots to arrange. Goodbye.”  
Again he heard footsteps retreat.

After a bit, Dean peeked, but in the dreary light he couldn’t see who was just walking by, or who was walking away.  
On the bench there was another steaming cup, this time accompanied by a paper bag.  
He picked it up, surprised to find it warm too.  
Inside there was a grilled ham and cheese sandwich.  
He bit down into the treat, humming in delight.   
The cheese was tasty, the ham thick and the white bread fresh.  
This was a gourmet grilled sandwich.

When he’d finished off the drink and snack, Dean looked around, hoping to find anybody who could tell him who was being so nice to him.  
Benny, the big Cajun guy who surprisingly ran the flower shop, was cleaning his windows.  
“Hey, Benny!” Dean called, making his way over.  
Benny turned, flashing his white teeth in his scruffy beard.  
“Hello chief. What’s happenin’?” he asked with his warm Louisiana accent.  
“Out of a job until after Christmas. But we’ll manage,” he lied. “But what I wanted to ask... did you see anybody sitting next to me just now?”  
With a tiny jerk, Benny tilted his head ever so slightly.  
“Now what you mean by that, brother?”  
Dean liked Benny, and he sure hoped the burly Cajun wouldn’t think him nuts.  
“Well, for the last two days, I have been sitting on that bench there, mulling things over. And both days someone came over, talked to me, and left. But they also left a hot coffee both times. And today a sandwich. So... I wondered if you’d seen who it was.”

Benny smiled softly, his kind eyes in a million mile stare.  
“Can’t say I have, Dean. Didn’t you recognise them?”  
Ears burning Dean mumbled his answer.  
“I had my eyes closed.”  
A deep chuckle rumbled from Benny’s chest.  
“Now why you do that, chief? You miss things with yo’ eyes closed,” he teased.  
Heaving a big sigh, Dean rubbed his brow again.  
“Oh...” Benny realised. “Buildin’ a migraine. Brother, you need to take care. This ain’t healthy.”  
Dean’s mouth spasmed, trying but failing to smile.  
“I know. But the coffee helped. A lot. And the sandwich. Anyway I never heard that voice before, and believe me, I would remember.”  
Carefully patting Dean on the shoulder, Benny hummed.  
“Oui. I noticed. You have quite an ear for the voices. How you say I sound again?”  
This time the smile won and Dean grinned at him.  
“Like warm, red wine,” he answered, not an ounce of flirtation in his words. Honest.  
Benny could make of it what he wanted.

Noticing something over Dean’s shoulder, Benny threw up one of his big hands to get attention.  
“Hey! Red! Over here, cherie!” he called out and Dean turned to see who ‘Red’ was.  
The flashy red hair that was bouncing up to them was unmistakable.  
“Hey Charlie,” Dean sighed, already resigned to getting his ass handed to him.  
“What’s up, bitches?” Charlie cheerily asked, grey eyes dancing between Dean and Benny.  
Hanging his head, Dean allowed Benny to take the helm.  
“Well, Dean here has been getting some attention, but he don’ know who is givin’ it.”  
Intrigued, Charlie swung around to face Dean fully.  
“Really? Isn’t that interesting.... spill.”

Giving Benny a hard glare, Dean reluctantly told Charlie about the coffee.  
“Dean Winchester! How can you not look when someone is being nice to you? Rude!” Charlie snapped at him once he’d finished.  
“He had his eyes closed, cherie,” Benny said soothingly, tapping his temple to emphasise.  
“Oh... oh crap. That bad, Dean?” Charlie sympathised.  
Dean nodded, pinching his eyes.  
“Dude, you need some R&R... pronto. Get Sam, get Baby, get out of here,” she ordered.  
Dean sighed.  
“I can’t, Charlie. He’s still my dad. Plus... I need a job, or I won’t be able to pay for anything.”  
Benny shrugged, and Charlie sighed.  
“Damnit,” she groused. “Mrs. Tran isn’t hiring, she has Kevin for the holidays. So no need to ask her. Benny?”  
Shaking his head slowly, Benny blinked sadly.  
“Non. I’m sorry, brother. I cannot afford a hired hand.”  
Giving them a sad smile, Dean turned to walk away.  
“That’s ok. It’s nice of you to wanna help. I’ll make it. I always have,” he said, bowing his pounding head and sauntering off.


	3. Chapter 3

After secretly feeding both his father and Sam, Dean felt like his head was splitting in two.  
He checked on both knuckleheads, just to be sure.   
Seeing John knock-out on the sofa, and Sam deeply emerged in his studies, he made his way to his room and knocked back some painkillers with a shot of tequila.  
Not the smartest thing to do, but desperate times...  
He fell face-first onto his bed, after using both blinds and curtains to darken his room as much as possible.  
With a sigh he tried to relax.  
“Dean?”  
Damnit.  
“Yeah, Sam?”  
“Are... are you gonna sleep now?”  
Seriously? Couldn’t the kid get a hint from the completely dark room, the fact that Dean was flopped on the bed, or the fact that yeah, he’d locked up the house, killed all the lights he could and gone to his room?  
“Yeah.... screw consciousness. That’s what I say,” Dean grumbled without moving.  
Sam shuffled his feet and even that tiny sound made Dean want to rip his own head off.  
“Ok. Night Dean.”  
“Night Sam. Don’t stay up too late,” Dean answered, although his tongue was already heavy and unresponsive from drugs and tequila. He slurred a bit.  
“Don’t you dare die on me, Dean,” Sam mumbled softly before closing the door with a click that was too loud for Dean.

“Dean?”  
Oh please! Let someone kill him now!  
“Hmf? What?” Dean mumbled into his pillow, not sure if he’d slept all night, or Sam was back after a ridiculous short time.  
“It’s almost eight. I made myself some breakfast, but dad... he....”  
Groaning, Dean rolled on his back.   
“Oh. Oh fuck... I’m stiff. I got this, Sam. You get your Sasquatch butt to school. I’m on dad.”  
Sam bit his lip, but nodded before leaving.  
Rubbing his head, Dean took a status report. Body: stiff and sore from sleeping fully dressed and mainly in one position.   
Head: filled with cobwebs, but at least not hurting anymore.  
Mouth: oh Gods! Gross!  
He sat up, rolled his shoulders, which crackled as he did, and then stretched his back until it popped.

He cleaned himself up, provided breakfast for his hungover father, lied about work and walked off again. This time through a crisp layer of snow.  
His breath fogged up in front of him and Christmas lights were twinkling in the dusk.  
He sat down on his bench and sighed, not sure what to do.  
The store opposite the bench had lost its newspaper window-dressing and someone was meticulously cleaning the big windows. ‘ _Maybe_ _a_ _realtor.’_ Dean thought vaguely  
The man was wearing slacks and a trenchcoat, and his dark hair was an unruly mop on his head, as if he’d just rolled out of bed.  
Dean liked the look.  
The guy chamoised the last bit, stepped back and admired his handiwork.  
“Looks great,” Dean said, much to his own surprise.  
The man turned around, his face betraying he hadn’t noticed Dean before.

‘ _Holy_ _Hell! Those_ _eyes_ _are_ _blue!’_ Dean’s mind unhelpfully supplied.  
The guy wiped his hands on a towel he had hanging from his pocket, and smiled slightly.  
Dean licked his lips. That guy was gorgeous! The hair, the eyes, the lips... they made one Hell of a picture together.  
“Hello,” the man said and Dean gasped.  
“Oh Gods. You’re him... the guy from the voice...” he rambled.  
Realising he didn’t make much sense, he cleared his throat.  
“Uhm. Thanks... for... for the coffee and the sandwich. I really needed that.”  
Yeah. That was slightly better.  
The man ducked his head adorably.  
“You are most welcome,” he said in that voice that, now Dean could hear it without the feeling of needles piercing his skull, raised goosebumps all over his arms. “You look like you’re doing better today. Is the migraine finally gone?”  
He made his way over to Dean and sat down next to him.  
“How... how did you know?” Dean asked. “About the migraine?”  
The lefthand corner of the man’s mouth quirked up a bit.  
“Takes one to know one. I suffer from them too, so I recognised the symptoms. Since you requested caffeine, I gathered it was something that helps you. I couldn’t do that. It only exacerbates my headaches.”  
Dean gaped at him. He was sexy, kind-hearted and smart. And he had the bluest eyes ever. How could Dean not gape?

Realising they had been staring intol each-other’s eyes for a while, Dean licked his lips.  
“I’m Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester,” he introduced himself, aware that it was a bit late..  
The man smiled, but all with his eyes. They crinkled up at the sides and Dean thought it adorable.  
“Castiel. Novak. I own this store now.”  
He indicated where he’d been cleaning the windows.  
“Really. Wow. What kind will it be?” Dean wondered aloud. “I mean.. We already have a bookstore. Mrs. Tran would fight tooth and nail to protect her own. Benny has the flower-shop. Garth and Bess have the dentist covered. Bobby is our old-timer mechanic. What niche will Cas fill?”  
He looked the man over, taking in the dark-blue slacks, the suit-collar and blue tie that showed beneath the tan trenchcoat, and his deep blue eyes. He looked like a librarian, or a tax-accountant, and Dean couldn’t think on what kind of shop the guy would have.

Another smile crinkled up those eyes again.  
“Cas?” he asked, tilting his head in a way that Dean did not find absolutely adorable. No, noooo. Nope nope nope. Ok it was. Totally.  
Belatedly, Dean realised giving the man a nickname just out of the blue like that, might be a bit forward of him.  
“Uh.. yes. I.. Sorry. I didn’t think,” he muttered, eyes to the snow that was slowly soaking his boots.  
A hand landed on his knee and Dean stared at it.  
“That’s ok, Dean,” Cas said warmly. “I like it. Could you wait just a second?”  
Dean nodded, as Cas stood and entered the building for a moment.

Two minutes later, it had begun snowing lightly, he returned with another cup of coffee and a paper bag.  
He handed them to Dean with an encouraging nod.  
Dean opened the bag to find a burrito. It was still warm.  
“Go ahead...” Cas pressed.  
Dean took a bite of the burrito, afraid it might be a bit too rich for his empty stomach, but it was filled with mayonnaise, bacon, scrambled egg, spring onions, and that delicious cheese that was on the sandwich yesterday.  
It tasted amazing!  
“Hm.. hmmm. Geez, Cas! Where’d you get this? It’s perfect,” Dean asked around a full mouth.  
Ducking his head with a slight pink dusting his cheeks, Cas smiled.  
“I made it.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean nearly choked on his bite.  
“What? Dude! I’m not gonna eat your lunch!” he exclaimed, already trying to tear off where he’d bitten down.  
A soft touch stopped him. Cas had his hands on Dean’s to still them.  
“Dean... it is not my lunch,” he explained softly. “Nor is it my breakfast, snack or anything of the sort.” he continued, correctly interpreting Dean’s look.  
“I made it, to test if I could sell it. I’m opening a kind of coffee-shop.”  
Dean heard the words, but they were almost drowned out by the beating of his heart.  
Cas’ hands were warm, soft and gentle, and tingles were creeping up Dean’s arms from where those slender fingers touched.  
“I was hoping you would tell me if it needs anything...” Cas confessed, eyes wide, and blue, and so fucking close.  
Dean could sense his ears starting to heat up.  
Licking his lips, he savoured the aftertaste of that bite.  
“Hm. No. No, it’s perfect as is, bud,” he supplied, causing Cas to grin a gummy smile that tightened Dean’s gut.  
“And the sandwich, yesterday?” he asked, looking up from under unfairly thick, long and dark lashes. He looked like a scolded kid, and Dean wanted to reassure him.  
“That was delicious too, Cas. Although I do like a bit of mustard or arugula, or both, with my grilled cheese.”

Cas nodded once, his eyes serious, his mouth a thin line as he obviously acknowledged the addendum to his recipe.  
“I think that could be for the ones who eat in. Don’t you agree, Dean?”  
Startled at being asked, Dean took a deep breath.  
“Cas... are you sure you wanna ask me such important things? I mean... I’m hardly a specialist.”  
A tiny hint of a smile teased the corners of Cas’ mouth, the left one more responsive than the right.  
“I know you like what I gave you so far, I know you gave me an honest, not hurtful opinion in answer to my questions. I think I can trust you.”  
Dean swallowed a bone-dry throat. “I’m nothing special, Cas. Just an out of job bum, who happened to pick the bench across from your shop to have his migraine on.”

Cas tilted his head again, his eyes squinted a bit as if he was observing not Dean, but his very essence.  
Oh Gods... no, no! Not cute... nothing remotely endearing about that kitten-like tilt.   
‘ _Liar...’_ whispered his brain.  
“I was wondering about that...” Cas admitted with a slight frown. “Why were you not at home, sleeping it off? Certainly the light, especially the sharp, midwinter glare we had these past days, would hurt you more.”  
To stall for time, Dean took another bite, chewing carefully.  
“Mh. My dad was home. I figured, rather than have his presence disturb me, I’d be better off sitting here in the quiet hours of the day. It’s winter, just before Christmas break. The town is empty. All the students are still in school, and the worker-bees are all busy tying up their work before the holidays.”

Cas nodded and took it as it was.  
“You are right. I should be working to get the store ready,” he sighed and made to get up.  
Dean panicked. He didn’t want Cas to go. He was enjoying their time on the bench, even though most of it was kinda awkward.  
“Wait... D’ya need a hand with things? I’m sorta handy,” he blurted out, causing Cas to stop mid rise.  
He threw Dean a look over his shoulder, blue eyes wide and hopeful.  
“You wouldn’t mind?” came that gravelly voice.  
With a chuckle, Dean started to get up too.  
“Of course not. Wouldn’t have offered if I did,” he shrugged.  
The smile Cas sent him, made his mouth dry up. It was warm and gummy and stunning, and Dean wanted to bask in it all day.  
“Alright. Then let us go in and warm up a bit. I still have things to connect, set up and even paint.”

Feeling both elated and apprehensive, Dean followed Cas to the store.  
The smell of fresh paint mixed with the aroma of bacon, eggs and coffee. It wasn’t unpleasant.  
Plus, Cas had the store heated to toasty temperatures.  
With a satisfied sigh, Dean rubbed his hands.  
“What do you need me to do first, Cas?” he enthused.  
Cas turned around, shucking off his trenchcoat.  
“I need you to finish your breakfast burrito and coffee, Dean. We’re in no hurry, so you should make sure you have enough sustenance.”  
Dean shook his head with a smile.  
“You sound like you have swallowed a lexicon, Cas,” he teased.  
Seeing Cas’ face fall a bit, Dean quickly stepped closer, putting a hand on the dark-blue shoulder.  
“Not that it’s a bad thing. Not at all. It just takes some getting used to.”  
Cas still looked downhearted, and it broke Dean’s heart a bit.  
“I am trying to fit in,” Cas mumbled. “But I don’t seem to be able to.”  
Biting his lip in regret for opening his big, fat mouth, Dean tried to catch those deep-blue eyes.  
“Cas, buddy... you’re doing fine,” he assured him, hoping to get rid of that kicked-puppy look.  
‘ _Damn!_ _Sammy_ _may_ _just_ _have_ _found_ _his_ _match.’_ Dean thought randomly. Another thought struck him, and he acted on it immediately.   
“Did you eat this morning, Cas?”

Cas blushed and replied with a negative.  
“Then you sit tight. I’m gonna make you some food,” Dean said shucking his leather off too.  
He took a guess and followed his nose.   
The smell of eggs and bacon led him straight to the kitchen.  
“Holy crap! Cas! What happened here?”  
The kitchen area was a disaster. An open packet of tortilla’s lay on the counter, next to some empty eggshells and a bundle of spring onions. A used skillet was thrown haphazardly into a sink, spatula and all. Another stood on the stove, the grease in it congealing slightly.  
A cheese-grater lay on a cutting board, next to a block of cheese.  
Cas stepped next to Dean, so deep in his personal space, they almost touched shoulders.  
“I cooked?” Cas wavered, and Dean rolled his eyes.  
He briskly picked up the cheese, the onions, and a stick of butter he found hidden behind the block of cheese, and put them all in the fridge.  
Then he ran the tap and rinsed both pans, the mixing-bowl that had been obscured by the skillet in the sink and the utensils. Then he placed the lot in the dishwasher.

“Dude. I don’t care how much of a hurry you’re in, clean up is essential. The customer can wait this minute and a half. And if you have staff, they can either deliver, or clean up.”  
He dried his hands and assessed the contents of the big fridge.  
“I can make you an omelet,” he offered, already reaching out for the diced ham, the eggs and the milk.  
Cas made a soft sound, which sounded kinda hurt to Dean.  
He turned around, to find Cas sitting at the counter.  
“What? What did I say?” he asked, not wanting those blue eyes to be sad.  
Shrugging, Cas said nothing.  
With a sigh, Dean abandoned the thought of cooking him breakfast, for now.  
“C’mon pal. I can’t apologise if I don’t know what I did...” he cajoled, as he sat down next to Cas.  
Cas mumbled something so low, Dean couldn’t hear a single thing.  
He kept eyeing the guy, until Cas sighed and straightened.  
“I said I do not have staff. My brother Gabriel, who designs and produces gimmicks and haberdasheries, was going to help me, but got a big order which needed to be done as soon as possible,” he admitted with a blush.

Dean bit his lip. He wanted to kiss that blush.  
Not the time, Winchester, so not the time.  
“Well, like I said: I can help. I’m handy, and I can find my way around a kitchen,” he offered.  
That almost smile was back and it made Dean happier than it should.  
“I’m gonna make you that food, and then we talk business, Cas,” he stated, jumping to his feet and grabbing a bowl and a whisk.  
Fifteen minutes later, he and Cas were eating their respective breakfasts.  
“This is very good, Dean. Very good. Do you make other foods too?” Cas wondered as he picked up the crumbs off his plate.  
Dean shrugged, licking his fingers clean.  
“Sure. Gimme a recipe, and I can make it. My mom used to let me help her make pie. That’s how it started. Then after... Well let’s say I’m doing the cooking at home,” he finished lamely.  
Cas nodded. “And you said you were out of a job... Dean, I can offer you a salary of $ 3.950,- a month. For that you will be my cook and maybe help out with odd jobs, like painting or helping install the grill.”  
Dean dropped his napkin.


	5. Chapter 5

When he picked up Sam, Dean was beaming.  
“Sammy! I got a job!” he called out even before his brother was at the car.  
Sam grinned back at him and slid in the shotgun position.  
“That’s awesome, Dean. Where?”  
Dean put Baby in gear and the black beauty slid into traffic as he explained Sam everything.  
“... and Cas, that’s the sexy owner, even said I could help out with deciding on the menu!” Dean enthused as he pulled up the drive. “Sammy. I’m getting nearly 4K a month! We can move out of this crap hole and get that house we saw for $ 695,- a month, and still cover the expenses!”  
Sam was smiling at him, his fox-like eyes a happy blue-grey.  
“Dude... you’re in love,” he quipped then quickly ducked out of the car.  
Swiftly following him, Dean nearly slipped on the snow covered drive.  
“Don’t you dare say that!” he yelled after his brother, who suddenly stood like a statue and slowly turned towards him.  
“Dee. I’d never tell dad, you know that... I know how he is. He’d beat the crap out of you. But me, I don’t care. This Cas sounds like a swell guy, and if he makes you happy, go for it.”  
Tears welling up in his eyes, Dean hugged Sam tightly. “Thanks baby brother. You don’t know how happy that makes me. Let’s go face the beast.”  
The brothers turned and walked in together, arms around each-others shoulders.

“Good God! What are you two? Fairies?”  
The insult stung, even though Dean knew the way his dad thought. Especially when he was drunk like this. Usually, Dean shrugged it off, or ignored it, but today, he snapped, hard.  
“No, dad. I had some good news, and I shared it with Sam, who was happy for me. We’re brothers, dad. Those do hug at times and they have their arms around their brother’s shoulders. Besides, what do you care? We’re disappointments to you anyway. Just so you know: I am bi. That means that I get turned on by men and women alike. If you don’t like it, you can kiss my ass! I pay the bills here, you just spend my earnings on booze and bar trips.”  
John opened and closed his mouth a few times, but Dean bulldozered on.  
“I have found myself a decent job, with good pay and you will go into Rehab! I have had it up to here with your whining and complaining about everything, but not taking steps to improve. Go to Rehab, or get out!”

A hard glint appeared in Johns eyes, but Dean just jutted his chin up.  
“What? You gonna hit me? Huh? Then who’ll pay the bills? Sammy’s got a full ride, but needs to make the hours in uni to keep it. You? Please... you can’t even stand straight without a shot of Jack in you.”  
He turned away and smiled ruefully at Sam.  
“I’m sorry, Sammy. Coming? I think dad...” He ladled all his disdain on that last word. “...needs to do some hard thinking.” He turned towards his father again and simply said: “Uncle Bobby offered to pay for Rehab years ago. But only if you volunteered to go. Take that chance, dad. I’m no longer going to support your addiction. Sam and I are going to look at a decent house, just down town. When we get back you’re either packed to go to Rehab, or we are packing to leave you. I’m done with this toxic life.”  
He turned and left, not even waiting to see if Sam followed. He knew Sam would.

They were not even inside the realtor’s office, when Dean’s phone rang. Cutting of the chorus of Kenny Roger’s ‘the Gambler’ Dean picked up.   
“Heya Bobby. What’s up?”  
He eyed Sam significantly, and his big galoot of a brother leaned in to try and hear their surrogate father.  
“Dean... I just got a call from your idjet father. Is it true you’re gonna kick him out if he don’t go to Rehab?” Bobby’s gruff voice asked.  
Typical. Trust dad to make him the bad guy...  
“No, Bobby. I said he should consider your offer, or me and Sam are going to move to this new home together, and leave him to stew in his juices. His choice.”  
A dry chuckle assured him Bobby knew which one of them was telling the truth.  
“Alright then, son. I’m gonna call him back and suss things out. You and Sam go look at that house you’re talkin’ about. But I wanna know details later on. Understand?” Bobby demanded.  
Dean and Sam sported identical grins. “Yes sir!” they chanted in unison, making Bobby chuckle as he ended the call.

Three hours later, they were showing Bobby around the 2 bedroom duplex they were now renting.  
“Yeah, this one is a little more a month, but the one Dean had seen was already gone. But, uncle Bobby, this has a basement. Sure it needs some work, but we’re all handy enough. That could be Dean’s room once it’s done,” Sam enthused, his rich voice sounding off the empty walls.  
Bobby scratched his scruffy beard and nodded.  
“Well. Looks cozy enough, boys. And that basement can take its time. Your daddy agreed on going to Rehab. I’m takin’ him there once we’re done here. Y’all wanna come say bye?”  
Stunned the brothers agreed and they all filed out to go home and take John to Rehab, five hours off.


	6. Chapter 6

“Dean!”  
Hearing that gravelly voice call out his name would never grow old.  
“In here! I’m just making us some coffee.” he called over his shoulder.  
The blast of cold air that drifted into the kitchen of ‘Heavenly Brews and Down to Earth Food’ indicated Cas had forgotten to close the backdoor in his hurry.  
“Cas, Dude... the cold!” Dean complained loudly and he could hear Cas hurriedly closing the offending door.  
“They’re here! I can’t believe it!” Cas came in, practically buzzing with excitement.  
He plonked a small package on the counter and swapped Dean’s hands away from the coffee machine.  
Amused and bewildered, Dean stepped aside, letting Cas do his thing.  
A lot of hissing and churning later, Cas turned to his package and swiftly opened it, using one of Dean’s good kitchen knives. “Cas...” Dean protested, but Cas hushed him and busied himself rinsing off something, drying it, and turning back to where a steaming cup stood under the coffee machine.  
He grabbed the cinnamon shaker and, acting very suspicious, did something that made him giggle.  
Then he finally turned to Dean, handing him a big, Christmas themed mug.  
The thick layer of frothed milk was decorated with cinnamon letters.  
It read:

GO FREAKIN NUTS

Dean chuckled at it.  
“What’s this?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at Cas.  
Cas was beaming as he eyed the mug.  
“Try it. It’s a new flavour,” he prompted Dean, who sighed, shook his head and carefully sipped the drink.  
It was tasty, sweet and yet... “nutty?” Dean pondered.  
The proud smile Cas gave told him he was right.  
“It’s hazelnut and caramel coffee, with a dash of walnuts. Do you like it?”  
Dean sipped more. “Yeah... it’s very seasonal. I like it. What’s it gonna be called?”  
Cas grinned and Dean could suddenly see the resemblance between him and his brother, the notorious prank pulling Novak, Gabriel.  
“Just what the label said... or in this case, the cinnamon.”  
Dean nearly choked on his next sip.  
“Go freaking nuts?” he managed after nearly coughing up a lung.  
Nodding, Cas sidled over to him.  
“Yes. That was one of the most memorable things ever said to me. And it was you who said it, about a year ago.”  
Warmth surrounded Dean’s heart and he smiled softly. “Sap,” he accused Cas.  
“You know it,” Cas said back and kissed him deeply. “Now hurry, love. Sam is bringing Eileen and their ASL class for the workshop, and Bobby said your father will come over too.”  
Smiling, Dean cleared away the mess his boyfriend made, chuckling at the plastic stencil he’d used for the words. Gabriel...  
He checked his pocket for the box he’d picked up just before Cas had come in.  
It was still there, and tonight, in front of his family and Charlie and Benny, he’d ask Cas to marry him.

Yeah. Today was another fan-freaking-tastic day in the life of Dean Winchester.


End file.
